


The Fall

by frostings



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - No Zombies, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-03-17 13:28:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3531044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostings/pseuds/frostings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beth gets into a car accident and is rescued by one of her father's new farmhands, a man named Daryl Dixon. Temporarily immobilized, stuck on the farm, she sets out to find out more about him. Daryl/Beth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Fall

What had happened to her, she only learned after.

After, when she woke up gasping in pain, lightning streaks up her legs, all over her body. She had expected to see blood when she raised her hands to her face, but they were clean save for the needles stuck in her veins. Why had she expected to see blood?

Then there was Momma, a reassuring voice, _It’s going to be okay._

Had it all been a dream? All she could remember was the heavy rain, headlights blurring, the world turning.

An unfamiliar man in a white coat and a reassuring voice stepped into her eyeline. “It’s good to see you awake, Ms. Greene. You’re a little banged up, but you’ll be alright.”

Banged up? Banged up from _what?_ Beth turned to her mother, trying to fight back the nausea. “What happened?”

It must have been bad, real bad, judging by the pain that was making itself felt through this haze clouding her mind, her mother’s barely-restrained distraught. She felt her mother’s hand reaching for her own, clutching tightly.

“A car accident,” the doctor finally said, when it was apparent that the older Greene wasn’t up to the task of verbalizing what had happened to her. “But you’re in the clear now. We’ll just be monitoring your condition and keep you here for maybe a week or so. We’re still not sure what happened, but you’ll be updated of the exact circumstances of your accident.”

Beth nodded weakly, just barely making out what the doctor was telling her. “Thank you,” she said. He merely nodded, patted her mother’s shoulder reassuringly and went out the door to give them some room.

She wanted to ask what happened, despite the reassurances. She wanted to ask where her daddy was, where Shawn and Maggie were, but suddenly she was so tired, her body heavy, as if being weighed down underwater. Her mother just soothed and stroked her forehead, and before Beth knew it, she was drifting back to sleep.

* * *

 

The next time she woke up, it was Maggie who was holding her hand.

Consciousness was accompanied by the dull ache that pervaded all over her body. But she was more awake and present. It was raining outside, and it occurred again to her that it had been raining too, before she woke up in the hospital. The room was now decorated with balloons and flowers from well-wishers, cards lining up the wall in cheerful colors.

Maggie was smiling, but there was something heavy behind her eyes. She had been crying.

“Hey, you.”

Beth cracked a thin smile. “Hey.”

“How are you feeling?”

Truthfully, she was feeling a bit disoriented. She wasn’t sure if she was dreaming or awake, and she had been troubled by dark dreams that she only half-remembered. But the warmth in her sister’s hand was real enough, as were the sounds by the trickling rain outside. She was glad to be awake. “Better, I guess.”

“You just missed Daddy and Shawn,” Maggie said. “They went out to attend to some things, and Momma’s resting up at home. She’s been here since yesterday.”

Beth nodded slowly. Maggie must have noticed her dry lips, standing up to fetch a cup of water, letting her drink through a straw. The cold water wakened her a little bit more, and she could feel her consciousness coming through more strongly now, rooting her into the now. Cup now empty, Maggie settled next to her again, green eyes never leaving her face.

“Doctor said it was bad.” Beth paused, taking a deep breath. All she could remember was the rain, and being behind the wheel. Now that she was awake, the implications of her situation was suddenly flooding the possibilities. She dared not look at her feet, obscured by the hospital bed covers. One leg felt numb. She was frightened to hear it, but Maggie could tell her. Her sister was strong enough to tell the truth. “What happened, Maggie?”

Maggie rubbed one hand over her forehead, remembering. “You were in a car accident, Beth. It was--it was pretty bad.” Her sister must have seen the look of alarm rising on her face so she quickly added. “You broke your leg, and fractured two ribs, but the doctor said you’ll recover from it.” Maggie drew in a shuddering breath, looking like she couldn’t believe that was the extent of Beth’s injuries, considering what she had seen. “Oh, Bethy, when we saw your car I really didn’t know if he was telling the truth.”

Beth instinctively raised one hand to feel her ribs, as if she could determine where the fissures had broken through. Her skin was tender, and she pulled back as soon as the hurt resurfaced. Her broken leg, she already knew, was weighed down with plaster and other implements to keep the bone secure until it completely healed.

Then, she began to remember. She had dropped off Otis and Patricia at the airport, for their first vacation together in years. It had begun to rain on the way back, light at first, but then torrential only minutes later. She even remembered thinking, _Climate change, the weather’s all strange these days._ The squeal of tire, wheels turning wildly over the slick roads. Her hands turned cold at the memory. “I fell into the ravine,” she whispered.

Maggie nodded.

“How did you find me?” She had been driving in the long stretch of forest between the county and the farms. She could remember closing her eyes, convinced of the finality of her fate. _No one’s going to find me here._

Maggie cocked her head at the question. “You really don’t remember?”

Beth shook her head. All she could remember was the falling, the terror seizing her heart, and then the sick affirmation that she was really, truly, about to die. “The last thing I remember was when the car pitched into the ravine.”

The reminder of how she had fallen in caused sudden tears to spring in Maggie’s eyes. “Oh, baby girl.” Beth felt her sister reach out and squeeze her hand tightly. “We--we got a call. Someone found you and got you out.”

Someone had saved her. Beth tried to summon any kind of memory from that gap between the accident and the hospital. She came up empty. “Who was it?”

“You don’t remember?” Maggie asked, watching her closely. Beth shook her head.

* * *

 

If there was one thing that Hershel Greene imposed on running the farm was to not treat it like a business. People had said that it wasn’t practical, not these days, when there were opportunities for expansion, to make things more state of the art. Her father had rejected this, opting to run his land the way his father did.

He had always made a point to treat the people who worked the farm like family, and they were treated like family in turn. Beth couldn’t remember a time when Patricia and Otis weren’t a part of her life. They were like her second set of parents, indulgent and playful and adoring, like she was really their own. They were also very much like Hershel and Annette, and stressed that she should be respectful of the people who worked with them on the farm. Most of the people her father had employed stayed with them until they retired, and they usually found good people to replace them. Beth had made it a point to get to know the new ones and make them feel comfortable, cooking for them and talking with them on their first weeks at the farm.

Most of the newer farmhands were like Otis--salt of the earth, plain-speaking and hard-working. The pay was fair, their working conditions good, and they were gratified not to be treated like the help by her family.

This was the way the newcomers came in for years. Until a week ago, before her accident. Otis had brought in someone...unexpected.

Beth had spotted him on his first day, when her father had gathered them at the house to introduce the newcomers. He stood away from the larger group, unsmiling, smoking a cigarette, surveying the rest of them with an unreadable look. He looked like he hadn't taken a bath for days, a stark contrast to the freshly-scrubbed faces around him. His dark hair was stringy, and hung limply around his face. His clothes were also markedly dirty, dark with mud patches all over it. Whoever he was, making a good impression on everyone was not on his agenda.

Her father began by welcoming them, introducing himself and Anette, a brief history of the farm, how he ran it, how he expected the people there to conduct themselves. That said, Beth knew she was up next. “I have three children; two are away in college right now. But my youngest is here, my Beth.” She stepped forward with a big smile, looking around at the new faces and the familiar ones. “You’ll see her poking around here and there, but she’s not that much of a nuisance as she was when she was seven,” Hershel quipped. The men laughed, and Beth only smiled, a bit embarrassed. She chanced a look at the loner standing away, and noted that he stayed stony-faced, smoking away.

He stood out like a rough-hewn rock in a carefully-cultivated rose garden.

The morning introductions done, the small group dissipated to tend to the morning chores. Otis came up, and gestured for the newcomer to follow suit. Her mother and Patricia went back in the house while Beth opted to linger, curious about the newcomer.

Upon closer inspection, she saw that he was much older than she thought, his relatively good build making him seem otherwise. His scraggly stubble had a fair amount of white in it, and she estimated that he was somewhere in his late thirties. He had this sullen air about him, as if he had been dragged here against his will. His eyes were a nice shade of blue though, stark against his tanned skin. She didn’t have to wonder why her father didn’t insist on introducing him to the rest of the guys. He seemed more like a feral cat than a person, ill at ease in unfamiliar company.

“Hershel,” Otis began. “This is Daryl Dixon, the guy I spoke to you about.”

“Mr. Dixon,” Hershel stepped forward, offering a handshake. “Welcome.”

Cigarette still in his mouth, Mr. Dixon stepped forward and shook his hand. “Mr. Greene,” he replied. He didn’t offer to be called by his name, Beth noted.

“He’s going to take a look at our machines,” Otis continued, glancing at Mr. Dixon. “Afterwards, we’ll see how it goes. He doesn’t have much experience with farming, but I reckon the guys will be more than happy to help him out.”

If Mr. Dixon could bring it to himself to even ask for help, that was. He didn’t look the type. Beth wasn’t aware that she had been staring until Mr. Dixon looked at her with that perpetual frown of his. Beth blinked, and pretended to tinker with the cellphone in her hand.

Her father didn’t seem to be fazed by how odd and out-of-place this Mr. Dixon was, and clapped the newcomer warmly on the shoulder. “You feel free to talk to me or Otis if you have any questions. Any friend of his is a friend of mine.”

That was interesting. Otis liked guitar and the blues, sweet tea and vanilla ice cream. Otis looked it, too, sensitive, sweet and open and honest. How he could be friends with a man who looked like Mr. Dixon wasn’t something she could imagine. Besides, she’s never seen Mr. Dixon in her life before. And she knew ‘most everyone in her neighborhood.

Maybe she’d ask Patricia later.

Mr. Dixon grunted something in reply, and Beth excused herself, sensing that she had stayed as long as was polite. She had to check on the horses and help her mother with the gardening.

* * *

 

She didn’t really give another thought about Mr. Dixon until lunchtime came and he wasn’t around.

Her father liked the farmhands coming together to take their lunch under the large picnic table under their ancient elm tree. It was part tradition, part her father’s wish to know the people who worked for him better, and part practicality, to keep the farm tidier. The farmhands didn’t mind it--Patricia and her mother always made sure that there was something cool and refreshing to drink, and fruits of the season to ensure they had a sweet ending to their meals.

Patricia had been the first to notice that the newcomer wasn’t among their numbers. “Beth, honey,” the older woman said, a bit distracted as she tinkered with the oven. “Could you be a dear and check on Mr. Dixon? I think he’s fixing the tractor up in the barn and might have not noticed the time.”

Beth had half a mind to say no, wanting to take her lunch on time along with everyone else, but she didn’t want to brook Patricia’s disapproval. She merely shrugged, and went out the back porch. She could see the tractor from where she was standing, but Mr. Dixon himself was nowhere in sight.

She started off, wondering at Otis and Patricia’s implicit trust in the man, what this Mr. Dixon could have done to win her own father’s trust so easily, too. She went back in the past few months in her mind, wondering what she must have missed. She had been busy in those last months: wrapping up high school, saying goodbye to all her friends, the inevitable breakup with Jimmy. She had been too engrossed in the closing of one chapter of her life, and had not noticed anything unusual going on in her home.

It still hadn’t sunk into her yet, that things were going to be different now. That she would be away from home in a new city, college, the inevitable steps towards adulthood. Shawn and Maggie had embraced it, no, had _run_ towards it, with open arms, no backward glances. She had to be left behind, with Momma and Daddy, experiencing with them the sudden emptiness of their home. It came with other things too: she had become more aware of the passage of time, the silence of abandoned childhood rooms, the gradual slowing of her father’s steps, the liver spots appearing on her mother’s worn hands. They were getting older. She was getting older.

Beth didn’t want to leave all that behind, not yet. But she had to. Eventually.

The Georgia sun beat down on her back, and she wasn’t even walking for a minute and Beth was already sweating. She trudged on, wondering if it was too rude to yell at Mr. Dixon to come on up to eat lunch with everyone else.

She finally reached the barn, its doors thrown open, signs of work that had been temporarily abandoned. She headed towards where the tractor was parked, and she approached just in time to see Mr. Dixon emerge from underneath it. She paused, watching him stand up and reach for a rag to wipe the grease from his hands. It didn’t seem to be very helpful.

She suddenly didn’t know what to do with her hands, and opted to shove them down her jeans pockets. He still wasn’t looking up. Whether he did this on purpose or not, she had no idea. After a few more awkward moments of her just standing there and him not giving a shit, she finally cleared her throat. Once. Twice.

“Mr. Dixon?” she finally called out.

He finally looked up. So he wasn’t hard of hearing, after all. He didn’t say anything, just glared at her. You’d think she called him a dirty word, the way he was frowning at her like that.

He took another swipe at getting the grease off his hands. “Ain’t no Mr. Dixon here,” he finally said.

She was glad she hung around long enough earlier to know his Christian name. “Alright. Daryl, then,” she said, even though he didn’t offer it. He merely raised his eyebrows and half-turned away from her. “It’s time to eat,” she ventured.

“So?”

“We’d be be happy if you joined us up at the house. With everyone else.”  

He didn’t look mighty convinced of him being around actually made anyone happy, and how she deduced that from his disparaging _hmph_ was a mystery. “Not hungry,” he muttered.

“You’ve been working since this morning,” Beth pointed out.

He just gave her a look. It occurred to her again, how strange he was, standing here in the farm that she had grown up in. Her little kingdom where once upon a time she was convinced fairies and gnomes lived, where she and Shawn and Maggie spent countless hours in, running around, playing hide and seek. Strange as it sounded, he just looked a little too real, a little too much of the world she’d seen on the news or heard on the radio.

His silence was deafening. Beth shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

She turned on her heel and headed back up at the house. She could feel his eyes on her back. Let him look. She knew that there was no talking someone who was so bull-headed. He didn’t like around being people he didn’t know. She could understand that. He hadn’t really said anything that was technically rude, but she felt slightly frustrated at his resistance.

She could make out the little crowd gathered around the picnic table. She figured that she could just tell Patricia that she had offered him to come, and he had said no. That was the truth, anyway. She wasn’t going to force someone to do something they didn’t want to do. That was that. That was fair.

But even as she thought this, she felt herself steer her course and go straight to the kitchen. Patricia had already left, probably tending to the rowdy men outside. For a moment, Beth stood there, unsure of what she meant to do. Then, with a slightly defiant note to her stride, she went up to the counter, to the refrigerator, picking the things that she needed.

She then proceeded to make a sandwich. A slightly sad-looking sandwich (how Momma or Patricia made them look like ready for a tv commercial, she’d never know), but a meal, nonetheless. She made one more trip to the refrigerator to get a can of soda and headed out once again.

The trip back to the barn seemed much quicker than the last time, but she just felt so...wound up. She really didn’t understand what was going on until she was standing in front of the tractor, holding out a sandwich and a soda, feeling slightly stupid and mad at herself.

He was on the ground, picking out tools when she came back. His eyes darted from her face, tight-lipped and defiant, to the food she had in her hands.

“Wha’sat?” he drawled. As if he didn’t know.

Beth shrugged. What _was_ she doing here? Did she feel sorry for him, with his bedraggled appearance, his scuffed boots, his bad haircut? Daddy always said she was too tender-hearted for her own good, that summer when she brought in too many stray cats in the house. People kept leaving them out there, and she couldn’t bear the thought of them just being there, alone, while she pretended she didn’t care. Because she did.

And she wasn’t going to let Daryl Dixon have a bad impression of how her Daddy ran the farm, leaving his guys to starve.

He was still waiting for an answer. “Please bring the plate back in after you’re done,” she said, putting the sandwich and the soda on top of the tractor. His face is inscrutable, and for a second she wondered if she did the wrong thing. No matter.

She retreated without another word, without looking back. She didn't even think about Daryl Dixon for the rest of the afternoon until later, when she found an empty pale-blue plate sitting on the porch. Beth stood there for while, turned the plate in her hands. Clean.

* * *

 

Later that evening, Beth tried to ask about him.

She was helping her mother with the dishes, talking about nothing in particular. After the fifth blue plate she dried, she finally mustered the courage to ask, very casually, what she knew about Daryl Dixon.

Her mother’s reaction was anything but casual. “Why do you ask, honey? Did he say anything to you?”

Beth shook her head. “No, Momma. I just--he just doesn’t seem to be one of the guys, you know? Not like Otis or Guillermo or Daddy.”

"And that bothers you?" Her mother's voice was mild.

Beth flushed scarlet at that. It wasn't that she minded he was different. She suddenly remembered Maggie’s first visit back home after a semester in college, breathlessly telling her all about the new people she’s met. Interesting people. People who were different, who grew up and saw the world differently than her. Did her mother really think that she would be so sheltered that people who were unlike her would bother her?

She didn’t say this aloud, merely shook her head. “Doesn’t bother me. Just curious.”

Beth knew that she had sounded just a touch too defensive, and now her mother was eyeing her more keenly now. “I believe he helped out Otis in a rough patch. You’d have to ask him if you want to know more,” her mother finally said, finishing up with the dishes.

Beth did her best not to huff in frustration. What was with all this secrecy? Did Daryl Dixon _murder_ a man for Otis or something? She tried to play it casual, shrugging. “Alright, then.”

“Getting such strange notions in your mind,” her mother shifted to light teasing. “Are you getting cabin fever on me? Maybe you should’ve gone to Europe for your gap year instead of hanging around here.”

“Momma,” Beth rolled her eyes. As much as Maggie’s backpacking in Europe had met a lot of resistance when it was brought up years ago, it still surprised her that the suggestion had come from her own parents when highschool graduation came up for her. As much as Maggie’s adventures had fascinated her, Beth always knew that she wanted to stay close to home for one year, learning more about running the farm, becoming a veterinarian like her father. Shawn and Maggie had always been happy to help out, but she knew that they always had their eye on the road, the big world out there. Her parents still thought that her decision to stay on the farm for a year was borne out of some sort of childish fear, fear of the world, fear of growing up. But it wasn’t like that. Not even a tiny bit. She tried to explain, but parents, they always felt like they knew better.

Annette seemed to sense that she had hit a sore spot and let the issue go. “Well, you’ve still got time. Think about it.” She hooked one arm around Beth, pressed a kiss on her head. “You’ve been on your feet all day, baby girl. Better wash up and get to sleep.”

She nodded and gave her mother an answering hug. “Goodnight, Momma.”

She was already padding up stairs when her mother trailed after her. “Bethy?”

“Yes?”

Her mother wiped her hands, which absurdly reminded her of Daryl Dixon, with his wounded glare and dirty hands. “It was good of you to be kind to Mr. Dixon like that today.” She was surprised that her mother had noticed, and Beth felt her hands grip the bannister a little tighter. Her mother paused, as if she was struggling with the next words, then decided against it. “Goodnight, Bethy.”

* * *

 

The next days were more of the same. Beth rose early, stood in for the morning briefings with the rest of the guys, and then trailed after her father checking up on the animals. She didn’t say much, just observed, making notes in her little notebook about how her father did things.  He still wasn’t taking her seriously about her plans to become a veterinarian, but if he couldn’t be swayed by her words, maybe he could be swayed by how she conducted herself.

The morning came and went, and it was lunchtime again. She heard Guillermo hollering some of the guys over, and her eyes automatically went towards the barn. As she expected, there he stood, Daryl Dixon, surveying the deconstructed tractor in front of him.

And like before, she went and fixed a meal for him, went over, and left them in his vicinity. At the end of the day, she came back home to a meticulously clean plate sitting on the porch.

The next time she did that, he snorted at her. “Didn’t know you were running a catering service,” he said as she set the plate down. She merely blinked, and went on her way.

On the third day, Beth was cleaning out a wound one of their sheep got from catching on one of the fences when she noticed him crossing from the barn towards the house. She had to smile at that.

When she finally came up the house, she spotted him, sitting at the very edge of the picnic table’s bench, a man apart. Their eyes met as he took a swig of water, blue eyes challenging. She wondered what changed his mind.

The answer came from Guillermo, who she sat next to a little later. “I see your friend’s joined us,” he said, smiling easily. Guillermo was one of her father's farmhands that had been around for a while, give or take a few years. They spoke to each other easily enough.

Beth blandly smiled back. “He’s not my friend,” she said.

Guillermo didn’t seem to hear her. “Me and the guys were getting jealous, you looking after him like that.” He said it warmly, though, without malice, a way of showing concern. “I was starting to worry he was going to expect that kind of treatment the whole time he’s here.”

“Well, we’ll need to make him more at home here, especially since you’re going to be starting at the hospital soon,” Beth replied, as she felt a more sincere smile coming on. “We’re gonna miss you around here.”

Guillermo ducked his head, embarrassed. “It’s been great working here. You should hit me up whenever you’re in town, alright?”

She nodded. She liked Guillermo. He was one of the few people nearer her age on the farm, but he’d always wanted to take up a job nearer town where his _abuela_ lived. “You should come over when apple picking season comes, we’ll need more hands here.”

“As long as those hands ain’t gonna be used to wait on Mr. Friendly there, I’d be obliged, Ms. Greene.”

“Good.” They continued their meal as their conversation veered to other topics, like nice places to eat in town, Beth’s plans for the gap year. At the back of her mind, Beth wondered if what Guillermo alluded to was true, if Daryl had actually felt like he was being waited on hand and foot. He didn’t seem to be the kind of person who got bothered with what people thought of him.

Was he concerned how it looked like for her? That didn’t seem likely, not with the way Daryl spoke to her.

“Who is he anyway? Why is he Otis’ best friend all of a sudden?” Guillermo veered the conversation back to the newcomer, who had already left the table and was stalking back to the barn.

“I dunno.” Beth shrugged, trying not to show that she wasn’t interested in that. Not much.

“Better steer clear of him, nonetheless.” Guillermo said as he stood up. “Greasy-haired men like that, can’t be trusted.” Beth had to laugh at that. “See you around, Greene.”

She didn’t have a reason to approach Daryl after that. _That’s fine, I guess._ One less thing off her mind.

She suddenly spied the postman's truck rumbling down the lane, and her heart suddenly flew up her throat. She broke into a light jog, just managing to reach the postman  just as he was about to reached the mailbox.

"Thanks," she said exhaled a she quickly shuffled through the envelopes. Bills, announcements, correspondences, mostly addressed to her father. She reached the last of the envelopes and felt her stomach drop like a stone. No letter for her.

Beth looked around, surveyed the long weeks and months stretched in front of her, and suddenly felt very much alone.

* * *

 

Back in the hospital room, the silence was stifling.

"Who was it, Maggie?" Beth asked, her own voice sounding thin and weak, even to herself.

Maggie sighed. "It was Daryl Dixon. Daryl Dixon, who found you."

 


	2. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth comes back home from the hospital, and everything's back to the way it was--with one small addition to their household.

" _Daryl Dixon?"_ Beth echoed, sure that her incredulity mirrored the look her sister was wearing right now. Why? How? She didn't even speak to him after, when he stopped being an obnoxious ass and started to take meals along with everyone else. How could Daryl Dixon have been involved in all of this?

Maggie sighed. "Apparently he was living in some cabin in that part of the woods, heard a crash, and checked it out. He told us that he found you, checked on you, and used your phone to make an emergency call."

It was hard imagining him doing everything her sister just recounted. "Is he here?" Beth asked, as she shifted in bed, trying to sit up taller. The sudden movement made her wince. Fractured ribs. She was going to feel this for a while.

Her sister shook her head. "He rode with you in the ambulance to the hospital but left as soon as Daddy and Momma arrived. The police had to question him with what happened.” Maggie patted her hand in what she assumed was supposed to be reassuring. “Don’t trouble yourself too much on that account, Bethy. What matters is you’re safe, and that you should rest.

It still didn’t make sense; none of it did, but Beth found herself agreeing nonetheless. “Okay.”

“Daddy and Shawn will be here real soon. They’d be glad to see you awake.” Maggie helped her settle back down again, and it felt nice to feel her big sister’s hand smooth down her hair, just like she did when she was little.

She was suddenly tired, so tired. She didn’t want to talk, and she knew Maggie was exhausted too. She didn’t want to fight anymore. Beth closed her eyes, and soon she slipped into sleep, dreamt of a strange man next to her bed, in a forest, holding her hand.

* * *

 

The next days came and passed by in a blur of people coming and going--doctors and nurses and friends and family who came to check in on her, helped her take her mind off the numbed pain that was her constant companion in those passing hours. Calls and texts came in at all hours asking about her. Despite trying to hide the accident from Otis and Patricia so that they could enjoy their vacation, the news still got to them and they called in a panic, guilty and terrified that they had somehow caused the accident she found herself in. Despite Beth’s and her family’s reassurances, the couple cut their vacation short by a week, eager to help out with Beth’s recuperation.

Her father only started smiling when Beth became more active, when she started smiling, herself. She was still largely dependent on the painkillers to even get there, but the miracle of her own survival began to trickle in her consciousness, the enormity of what she had walked away from revealing itself to her. She was alive. She was given a  second chance. She was determined to fight through it, if only it meant that it lessened the worried look on her family’s faces, so that Maggie and Shawn would feel less guilty when the time came that they had to go back to college and resume their lives.

That week, it seemed like the whole town poured in through her hospital ward’s door to cheer her up. Many of her classmates had gone on vacation for the summer and weren’t around, but their parents and cousins and older friends had all come to sit with her. She later heard that they passed around a hat to help the Greenes with their medical expenses. Even Officer Grimes dropped by, accompanied by his wife, Lori, although he was tight-lipped on the circumstances of the accident.

Of Daryl Dixon and his participation in her rescue, nothing more was said. Her father had reassured her that the police had determined the accident was nobody’s fault, a combination of bad weather and slick roads. They tried to not worry her, but a friend of Beth’s sent a picture of her totaled car, and she wondered, like Maggie, how it was that she had survived. She sometimes dreamt of it, those last moments before the fall, how she had closed her eyes and prayed. _As I lay me down to sleep, I pray to God my soul to keep._

Beth waited for _him_ to come visit her, but _he_ never appeared.

After a week in confinement, the doctors finally had given her the go-ahead to recuperate at her own house.They gave her a rundown of the medicine she had to take, the checkups she had to schedule, what she should and shouldn’t do, but Beth was only half-listening, so relieved that she could go back and sleep in her own bed. She was grateful for all the people who had come to see her, but all she wanted to do at that point was to go home.

Shawn had volunteered to drive, and was full of good humor and light-hearted jokes all the way home. Her mother sat beside her, smiled ever so gently as the landscape of the town fell behind them to give way to the more wooded area of their home. Had it really been a week ago, when Momma asked her to reconsider Europe? Just like that, it wasn’t even in the cards anymore.

But she was alive, that was in her cards and so many other things, and Beth reflected that this trip home could have been her in a box to an early grave. She tried most hours not to burst into tears every time she remembered, but now they rose in the corner of her eyes, and she just wants to get on her knees and thank everything and everyone she’d ever known _._ She turned away from her family, pretending to be engrossed in the passing landscape. Even the sting of knowing _he_ didn’t visit wasn’t as painful as she thought it would be. She was just so glad to be _alive_ , that her blood seemed to sing with it, and her body just barely able to hold back the things that she wanted to do with her second chance.

Despite all the thoughts running in her mind, Beth found herself dozing off most of the trip home. When she opened her eyes again, the car was sitting just outside their house.

Shawn swiveled from the driver’s seat, as if he had conjured this all for her, a big smile on his face. “Welcome home, baby sis.”

Otis opened the door, and Patricia, already crying, set off Beth’s own tears, too. She bawled like a baby before she even got out of the car, soaking Patricia’s nice summer dress up front. And then Momma was crying, Daddy was crying, and Maggie, too. It was a mess. It was her family, and they were just so glad to be together. She was glad it was Sunday, glad the day was over, so that no one else had to see this little mourning, this little almost-tragedy.

“My baby girl, my brave baby girl,” Patricia cooed, hugging Beth tightly as Otis and Shawn came up to help her into her wheelchair. “I’m so sorry for everything you’ve been through.”

Beth shook her head. She could see that the accident had deeply rattled Patricia and Otis--they weren’t able to come and visit her in the hospital, but she figured that it was for the best. They felt guilty enough as it was and it was good that they were had been protected from the worst of it. They were tender-hearted, these second parents of hers. “It’s alright, Patricia, I’m here now,” Beth said, comforting her as much as she could.

“Look, Beth,” Shawn didn’t cry, but his voice sounded a little thicker than it was a few minutes ago. He pushed her wheelchair closer to the house, as the rest of the family trailed behind. “You finally got your wish: A slide!” It wasn’t a slide, not really (Shawn was teasing her about her unfulfilled wish to get a slide on the farm when she was five), but a ramp built over half of the steps leading up to the porch, so that she could go in and out the house with more ease.

“Otis kept himself busy while he was waiting for you,” Hershel said by way of explanation. “Patricia and Maggie, too.”

Beth found out later that they had set up a bedroom for her on the first floor of the house, converting what had been a den to a duplicate of her own bedroom upstairs. They had hauled down the bed and her desk, her guitar and music sheets, and everything else that made her comfortable and at ease. Momma even decorated the room with vases full of sunflowers.

“How nice,” Beth sighed as she kissed Maggie’s cheek. “Thank you so much.”

“The doctor said you might have your cast on for a few months, so you’ll have to stay here for a while,” Maggie said. Everyone stood in the bedroom until they were satisfied with Beth’s exclamations of how wonderful it was to be home, and that she was going to get better a lot quicker that she was back. Beth didn’t mind--she knew that they were just trying to find ways to work out their anxieties after what had happened to her.

Momma had prepared a small dinner for all of them. Beth was glad that they didn’t make her homecoming a big thing, as her mother had correctly guessed that she would be too tired to accommodate guests, no matter how well-meaning.

They had just gathered around the dinner table when someone knocked on the door. Beth looked up, surprised, and made a quick count of everyone. All the family was here, and it was a Sunday.

Otis stood up and wordlessly went to the front door. Two sets of footsteps came back in the dining hall, and Beth saw the newcomer--Daryl Dixon--trailing behind Otis.

He looked cleaner than he usually was when working at the farm. His hair was pushed back, no longer falling into his eyes, and he had on a clean flannel button-down shirt. He wore a pair of faded jeans and boots that weren’t tracking mud. He hung back a little when he felt all eyes on him, as a little awkward silence fell in the room upon his arrival.

Annette broke the spell first. “Daryl, it’s so nice of you to join us!” She said as she stood up in one graceful motion towards him. This prompted Shawn to actually pull out a seat for their visitor, as Otis and Annette coaxed him into sitting across Beth.

“S’nothin,” he mumbled, obviously not used to this kind of hovering attention. Hershel was smiling now, and Maggie and Patricia, too. He looked a bit younger now, under the soft lights of the dining room, although he was noticeably nervous, a marked change from his usual wounded stance while working the farm. He stared down at the placements, at the plates and the flowers, and then finally, at her.

Beth didn’t know what to say to him. What _do_ you say to someone who had saved your life? She instead smiled warmly at him, hoping that it could convey her gratitude, somehow. After a beat, he went back to studying the plate in front of him. Well. At least she tried.

The other people began passing the salad around, and that gave her something to do for a while. Her family chatted away like Daryl Dixon being part of their family dinner was nothing out of the ordinary. They talked about college, Maggie and Shawn’s plans for summer now that the semester was coming to a close.

“I thought I’d come here, and, you know, help out,” Maggie said as she glanced at Beth.

Beth rolled her eyes. “Maggie, I’ll be fine. What, are you gonna stare at me wheeling around here all day?” She knew that Maggie just got a part-time job at the courthouse, and she didn’t want to slow her down on Beth’s account.

“She’s just gonna be sleeping all day, getting fat,” Shawn joked as she tore up a piece of bread. “You don’t wanna be around for that sad sight.”

“Thank you Shawn, really.” Beth replied with as much sarcasm as she could muster. “Next time you don’t know what words rhyme with ‘broken glass’ in your next song you’re writing, don’t go calling me.”

“It’s ‘pansy ass.’ I got it all covered. So to speak.” Shawn tossed a breadcrumb aimed at her face.

“Hey!” Beth giggled. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Daryl sitting quietly with his soup. She turned her attention to him and pushed a bread basket in his direction. “Try this, it’s really good,” she said softly.

He seemed to freeze when she spoke to him again, but this time nodded meekly. He almost seemed like a little boy on his best behavior, slightly scared to be called out. He took a dinner roll and practically crammed the whole thing in his mouth. It was a bit funny, but Beth didn’t want to hurt his feelings, so she bit the inner side of her cheek, forcing back a giggle.

“So how are you settling in at the cottage, Daryl?” Hershel’s voice cut through the good-natured din of his family to address their visitor. Beth’s head whipped back and forth from her Daddy’s direction to Daryl’s, surprised at this little revelation. Daryl Dixon was living here, at the farm?

Daryl swallowed quickly and nodded. “S’alright. Clean.”

“It’s not much, but I hope you like it,” Hershel said. Beth glanced at her mother, then at Maggie, to see if they would shed some light on this development but they were already busy with their food.

“I wouldn’t have believed that you lived in that shitty old cabin in the woods until I saw it,” Otis nodded around the table. “It’s been abandoned for years! You must be pretty tough to rough it out there.” He turned to Daryl, grinning widely.

Beth saw Daryl’s ears turn red. Otis meant well, meant what he said as a compliment, but he also revealed that Daryl was pretty much squatting in someone’s old house in the middle of nowhere. “I know my way around,” he said gruffly.

“Still, I guess that was pretty lucky, considering what happened,” Otis said, finally bringing up Daryl’s involvement in her rescue. Daryl didn’t respond, and instead stared down on his plate again. “But you have to agree our cottage’s a bit better than that cabin.”

Couldn’t he afford better lodgings? He’d have to have had his pay packet last week, at least. The red had begun to creep down in blotchy patches across Daryl’s face.

“Oh, I forgot to tell everyone,” Beth chimed in, calling everyone’s attention. “Lori told me that she and Officer Grimes are expecting another baby. They went straight to the ob-gyne after visiting me in the hospital the other day.”

“That’s wonderful!” Annette jumped in, taking up her cue to change the subject. “They’ve been trying a long time for another one, haven’t they?”

“As long Beth’s been angling to become somebody’s godmother,” Maggie said ruefully. “Elizabeth, _why_ are you so obsessed with that anyway?”

“It’s a rite of passage. I’m an adult!” Beth said, taking a swipe of butter with a finger and putting it in her mouth. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Daryl relax from the diverted attention.

“Someone does all the hard work of bringing a baby in this world, and it’s still about you,” Shawn chortled. “Good job, Bethy.”

The conversation veered back into calmer waters with the arrival of Patricia’s famous casserole. As everyone dug in, Beth turned her attention to Daryl again. “Do you know Officer Grimes? He’s really nice. Practically the president of this area.”

He inclined his head. “Yeah,” he said, but didn’t offer anything more. She could see he was a bit grateful, though, for changing the subject just then.

“He comes around sometimes, maybe you’d get to know him better,” Beth gently pushed the conversation.

Daryl shrugged. “Maybe,” he said. It wasn’t much, but it felt friendlier, somehow. At least he wasn’t glaring at her anymore. She wondered how her family had been able to convince him to move here, to even be here, sitting at the table with them, with the way he was.

“Do you always just answer in one or two words?” Beth asked, smiling slightly.

She was a bit surprised to see a corner of his lips turn up. “No.”

Beth leaned back. “Coulda fooled me.”

The friendliness was short-lived, though, as Hershel asked Beth on how she was feeling. By the time she had done with her father's careful questioning, it was Patricia who had engaged in Daryl in conversation, although it was mostly one-sided on her part.

It was clear that her family was anxious to make Daryl feel comfortable and at home, and he was just as unnerved by it. It occurred to Beth that once again, something had happened here that she was not aware of, and now she had to pay close attention to pick up the clues of what had transpired in the days that she wasn't around.

She noticed one other thing, though: Daryl's eyes kept flicking back to Maggie's face. Of course. Maggie was so gorgeous that people couldn't help looking at her, men and women alike. She heard that Maggie looked like her mother, a famous beauty before she had died. Beth, on the other hand, looked just like Annette, with her blonde hair and cupid's bow mouth. Her momma was beautiful, and Beth was proud of Maggie's looks, but when it came to her own looks, Beth had accepted that she would always be the cute one. The pretty one, on a good day.

Beth pretended not to notice Daryl's glances, though. He had been embarrassed enough for one day.

* * *

 

As soon as they were all done with the ice cream, Daryl announced that it was time for him to go.

"Don't you want to stay for coffee or something, Daryl?" Annette asked.

He shook his head. "Nah, thanks. Gotta get up early tomorrow."

"I'll walk you out." Beth's voice rang out, before anyone else could speak,  as everyone turned to look at her. "Could you help me, Daryl?" She asked sweetly, indicating to the wheelchair she was sitting on. She could feel her father's eyes on her but he probably understood her intention.

"Um," he glanced back at the dining table, and then back to her. "Alright."

He steered the both of them out of the room after a repeated muttering of "thanks" to no one in particular.

"Thanks for coming by," Beth said as soon as they were out of earshot. "I hope you had a good time."

"Food's good," he grunted, as if it was explanation enough why he was there. They had reached the door, as it wasn't a very big distance. He let her go and stood in front of her. "Sure you can get back there on your own?" He asked, making a vague gesture towards the short distance they just crossed.

She nodded. "Yeah. Gotta get used to it, right?"

"Hmm." He reached for something in his front pocket and drew out a cigarette. The thing was already in his mouth when he realized he was still indoors. He drew it out again, slightly embarrassed for doing that in front of her. He had been so awkward the whole evening, and it was still surprising her after the first impressions he’d made on her during that first week on the farm. How could she have thought so badly of him?

"Thank you," she finally said, coming out of her all in a rush. "They told me you helped me in the accident. I'm not sure if I can ever repay that."

He shifted his weight and scratched one arm, fidgeting. "S'nothing," he muttered.

It wasn't nothing, and she didn't know how to say that without embarrassing him even more. He wasn't used to this, she saw. Words were something he clearly struggled with giving, and receiving. But she wanted him to understand her full meaning so she reached out with both hands and reached for his one empty one.

His hand was rough and callused, and her own looked tiny compared to his. She clasped it tightly and closed her eyes briefly. Praying he would understand what she couldn't say: the depth of her gratitude. She looked up at him and saw that he was looking at their joined hands. He didn't pull away, and she tightened her clasp. She was surprised when he briefly squeezed back in response.

Beth smiled, but his face was still serious. They finally let go, and Beth wheeled a little away from him to give him room. "Goodnight, Daryl," she said softly.

He inclined his head, opened the door, and left into the night.

* * *

 

Dark dreams plagued her that night, dreams of falling into the darkness, reaching out to catch onto anything, anyone. She was glad Maggie and Shawn chose to wake her early that morning, only if to cut the nightmares short.

The pain was there, persistent and warm in her torso. Beth tried to fight back a wince as she leaned up to receive Maggie’s kiss. “Gotta go little sis,” Maggie said. Her older sister didn’t miss the pain that crossed Beth’s face. “I hate leaving you like this.”

“I know,” Beth nodded, her voice still thick from sleep. “You go on ahead and drive safe, you hear?”

“Aye aye sir,” Shawn said, as Maggie gave way for him. Beth was a little surprised to feel Shawn plant a kiss on her forehead. He was not one for physical affection, but the accident must have rattled him up more than he’d like to admit. “Give us a call anytime you want, alright?”

She settled back on her pillows and nodded. “Yeah. I love you, Shawn.”

“Love ya, baby sis. Take care of yourself.” After another kiss on her cheeks, Maggie and Shawn finally left. Beth lay on the bed, listened to the murmured sounds of her parents saying their goodbyes to her siblings. Doors slammed shut, and she heard the sound of Shawn’s car gunning to life, the sound of gravel under its wheels, until they finally drove away. The house was quiet again.

She closed her eyes, but the pain wasn’t letting her get back to sleep. She sensed her mother hovering near her doorway, but she pretended to be asleep, not wanting Annette to be a mother hen when the sun wasn’t even up yet. Maggie and Shawn, they never seem to stay long enough. Beth missed them already.

Sleep wouldn’t come, so her mind wandered down other roads. Months before graduation, people were either fidgeting about college or prom, or both. She had just broken up with Jimmy. Jimmy, who hadn’t even thought to call after her accident. It’s funny, how childish it all seemed now. How childish the school was, the classrooms, too-bright and cheery, even in her mind’s eye. She followed her memories down the familiar hallways, past the lockers and the chattering students, until she found _him._

Aiden Monroe. Even in her thoughts his name sounded like a song. Tall and dark-haired, brown eyes like her favorite morning coffee, he had strode in the small Student Council office like a hero out of a book. Beth must have been filling out forms or something inconsequential, but all the other details of how they first met still stood out stark in her mind. Aiden’s warm smile, the cornflower blue button-down shirt he was wearing, his neatly-trimmed nails. He looked every bit the Congresswoman’s son, although he had no airs, and was perfectly happy to go through the Career Day schedule with her.

He had been a lucky addition to that event. Most of the people they got to agree to give a talk on Career Day were mostly people from around town. Officer Grimes had been there so many times that he probably could recite his speech in his sleep. Her own father had spoken at it once, although he was sure that most of the kids in this town were eager to leave, as farming didn’t seem suited for young people full of restless energy.

Aiden Monroe had been a stroke of luck. Beth had wanted to change things up for Career Day, and her late-night research brought her attention to an article about Congresswoman Monroe’s son being involved in humanitarian work. She went out on a limb and contacted people in the newspaper, who gave her contacts to the Congresswoman’s staff. Before she knew it, she was exchanging emails with Aiden himself, who readily agreed to King County and meet them all.

He was handsome, and could easily run for politics himself with his kind face and gentlemanly ways. All the auditorium was abuzz when he finally walked onstage for his turn. He gave a pretty well-rounded speech about his humanitarian work, helping build houses for poverty-stricken people in Southeast Asia, establishing clean water networks in Tajikistan. It wasn’t for everyone, he warned, but the work was fulfilling, and he got to meet interesting people along the way. He seemed to look at her when he said this, but Beth must have imagined it.

She got to talk to him afterwards, when the school hosted a small party for the participants. People crowded around him, wanting to know more about him and his mother, the closest thing King County had for a celebrity these days. He always found time to extricate himself from the crowd and talk to her, though. Their emails had been friendlier before she had even met him, but Beth found that he had made her the shyest she’s ever been. She was suddenly hyper-aware of herself around him, her small stature, her relative immaturity compared to him, her heavy accent.

“This place has been great,” he said. “I’m sorry I didn’t have enough time to go around.” In fact, he had to leave that very same evening.

Beth could see Rick and Lori grinning at her in a knowing way from across the room (Officer Grimes had been invited to Career Day once again, of course). Had she made herself so obvious? She flushed scarlet and bit her lip. “You could visit us anytime. I could take you around,” she ventured.

He smiled back, easy and warm. “Would you? I’d like that.”

He hadn’t been flirty, hadn’t been suggestive or inappropriate, but he gave her an address she could send letters to, said that sometimes the internet didn’t work wherever he was stationed and he would like to hear from her. She had flushed bright red as if he’d asked her to marry him right there and then. She nodded, and they hugged, and that was that.

She made sure to memorize the address, just in case she lost that slip of paper. She never did.

He’d replied to her at least twice since she left school. He didn’t talk much about what he was doing out there, and she understood. She’d been honest with him, though, and tentatively touched on her hanging back on the farm for the gap year, talked about colleges she was looking at. His responses had been encouraging, understanding. He promised to come down to Atlanta sometime in the year, but didn’t know when. He didn’t know that he was a big reason why she was staying in the first place. Waiting for him. Waiting to find out if there would be anything to discover. Maybe it was a little pathetic, and she hadn’t told a soul about him, but Beth didn’t care. She’d wanted to wait.

Was there something there? Was she just imagining things? Even as she revisited the few precious moments that she shared with Aiden, even if she scoured his emails and letters to her, the answers seemed to always be a little out of reach.

 _What do you want to do with the rest of your life?_ was the question Career Day asked. She didn’t have answers, not even now, but Aiden Monroe’s face flashed before her eyes whenever she thought about it.

He didn’t know about her accident. She hadn’t written to him about it yet. She wondered if he would come see her then, if he cared.

She snorted, instantly disgusted at herself for even thinking of making her situation a kind of bait for him to test his affections. She would let herself recover for a few weeks, then write to him about the accident, she decided. No need to alarm him while she was on the mend.

* * *

 

The first morning back at the house had been excruciating. Turned out that the painkillers had been working their magic on her the night before, and now all her injuries were making sure that they were felt that day.

“I’m sorry, baby girl,” Annette had said as she spoon-fed Beth that morning. They had begun to wean her off the painkillers, not by much, but it was just enough for things to hurt. Her mother looked pained for her, as if it had been her doing.

As it was, Beth needed help in doing everything. She was a child again, needed help when she had to go to the toilet, when she had to take a bath. And now she was being spoon fed like a toddler, her ribs hurting too much for her to even raise her arms.

Beth asked to be moved to the porch for the remainder of the day. The den had suddenly felt like it was closing in on her, and she wanted to feel some fresh air. Her father and Otis obliged, setting up a settee with some pillows and blankets, and a small table for her books. She didn’t feel like reading, though, merely looked out at the farm, the blue of the sky strangely comforting.

Some of the guys came up to see her while she was out there, hat in their hands, all very sorry to see her like this. She was embarrassed but grateful, exchanging a few words of reassurances and pleasantries before they had to go back to work. Even Guillermo called, and she put him on speakerphone, and he regaled her with a few stories about working in the hospital, the secret liaisons and oddball patients he encountered. He promised to see her soon. It was still slightly strange, finding out how much people cared about her this way. She promised herself to be much nicer to them, to make a better effort for the people who had been so kind to her.

She didn’t see much of Daryl, although she could make out his tiny figure from afar, coming and going. She was still watching him make his way around the farm when she heard Otis come up the porch, a labrador puppy in his hands.

“Thought you were missing this one,” Otis said by way of greeting as he held the squirming puppy up. “They were missing you.”

Beth grinned widely, and bit back the pain as she made room for the puppy to sit next to her on the settee. Otis didn’t know that small movements hurt, but she didn’t want to turn away the adorable creature he had brought along. “This is Lucy, isn’t it? Hi Lucy,” she said to the puppy as she stroked its golden-brown fur. It tried to nip her finger in response, making Beth giggle.

Otis drew up a chair to sit across her. He watched her play with the puppy for a few minutes, a small smile playing on his lips. “How are you feeling?” he finally asked.

The puppy had rolled on its back, and Beth stroked its soft stomach with one finger. “I’m still a little out of it,” she admitted. “At least my black eye’s going away.”

“It looks good on you. Makes you look tough,” Otis offered. “Saw some of the boys coming up here to visit you here,” he added.

“Yeah,” she nodded. “It was nice of them to do that.”

Otis traced her gaze across the farm towards Daryl Dixon, who had disappeared into the barn. “You don’t mind that he’s here?”

She frowned a little at that. “Why would I mind? He saved my life. And if Daddy’s alright with it, it’s not really any of my business, isn’t it?”

Otis nodded, although he didn’t seem convinced. “You must be surprised, though.”

All her curiosity about Daryl Dixon didn’t seem as urgent as it had been a week ago. He had seemed mysterious and dangerous, but now he could just be as harmless as the puppy sitting beside her now, after all the things he’s done for them, after the night before. If there’s something that she truly understood about Otis, it was his tender heart and steadfast loyalty. He had seen something in Daryl Dixon, and had felt sorry for his situation. Now that she understood the situation a little better, it wasn’t hard to understand how things ended up the way they were.

There was still something she was curious about, though. “How _did_ you meet him? Momma said he helped you out somehow.”

“Ah.” Otis reddened at this. “He helped me out in a...in a bar fight.”

Beth stared at him a bit of a shock, torn between giggling and letting her jaw drop open. Otis? In a _bar fight?_ He might as well have told her that he had been rescued from aliens. “Seriously?”

“Serious,” Otis chuckled at her expression. “It’s funny now, but it was pretty bad. Dunno why I was even in there--buddy of mine insisted we tried somewhere new. Anyway, Daryl was there, stopped me from getting stabbed, but he roughed up some people. Owner fired him on the spot.”  

Beth had heard of those places, the rougher, seedier side of town. It was hard to imagine Otis there, knowing him the way she did. Why would anyone want to hurt Otis when he was so sweet? “So you felt bad for him and offered him a job here,” she said softly.

“Yeah. He looked pretty pissed when I did, though. Was surprised myself when he showed up the next day.”

“But where is he from? I’ve never seen him before.”

“From these parts. He really wasn’t clear, but...” Otis shrugged, indicating that it really didn’t matter at this point.

She thought about his accent, heavier than hers, the way his hair fell over his face as if he didn’t want anyone to see it, his shabby clothes, his wounded gaze. A drifter. He must have been down on his luck when Otis met him that day, squatting in a cabin in the woods and taking up that offer when he knew next to nothing about farming. His bad luck had been her good luck, finding her the way he did in the woods, and she felt terrible about it. She knew exactly what Otis felt, even though others probably wouldn’t understand.

Lucy had fallen asleep beside her. “Anyway, gotta get back to work,” Otis said as he stood up. He scooped up the puppy back into his arms. “Get some rest, Beth.”

Her head buzzed with all the new information Otis had given, Beth simply nodded and settled back against her pillows. She had been more tired than she realized, because before she knew it, she had fallen asleep.

* * *

 

When she woke again, it was already late afternoon, and Daryl was standing in front of her.

He was putting a sheaf of papers under a book, and looked startled when he saw her looking at him.

“Didn’t mean to wake ya,” he said in that gravelly voice of his. “Your dad put them here and then the wind blew them away.”

“You picked them up?” she asked.

He nodded.

There was a beat and then she thanked him, sinking back into her pillows. The hurt was still there, throbbing and insistent. She hoped it wasn’t too much trouble, picking up the papers. The farm was quiet now, and she knew everyone had gone home based on how low the sun hung on the horizon.  

“Sorry about that. What are they, anyway?” she asked, referring to the papers.

He glanced at the papers. “College applications,” he said.

“Ah.” Hershel wasn’t going to beat around the bush, accident or no. She didn’t really want to talk about it, not even to Daryl Dixon, so she gestured to the empty seat across her. “Why don’t you sit down, Daryl?”

He hesitated, but did was told, drawing himself up the way Otis did earlier. He still seemed ill at ease, though, and Beth hadn’t the slightest idea how to make it better.

“How are you today, Daryl?” she asked, because she didn’t know what else to ask. Not after everything’s Otis told her, everything she’s figured out for herself.

He looked away, looked at the sunset that set the sky aflame in pinks and purples. “Fine.”

“Will you join us for dinner tonight?”

He looked back at her then, his jaw suddenly set hard. “Are you askin’ or are you invitin?”

Beth blinked, startled at his response. She had thought that they were a little friendlier now, or at least, past this vague aggression that he had just barely contained himself. “I’m inviting, of course,” she said, trying to sound calm, not defensive.

He drew back just then, and crossed his arms. In the faint light, he almost looked like a sullen kid.

Then he spoke, so low she almost didn’t hear it. “I ain’t a charity case.”

Oh. Was that what he thought? Was that why he was so ill at ease, so prickly? Did he think they all pitied him? There was an element of pity in it--she remembered Otis’ face when he told her about finding Daryl in the cabin--but she knew herself. She knew her family. They weren’t naive do-gooders, they just wanted to do right by what felt right. There was a difference there, but she didn’t really know how to put this into words.

“You work your hours just like everybody else,” she said. “And no one’s been using that cottage since I was eleven years old, might as well be yours.”

His lips quirked up just then. “That right?”

She smiled. “Hell yeah. You’re living in my fairy princess castle.” She tried to sit up then, and winced at the pain that followed. He caught on it, saw him lean towards her in that exact moment. She held that smile though, until she was sitting upright.

“Been sleeping all day,” she said. “Shawn’s right, I’m just gonna get fat and lazy if I keep this up.” She reached up and smoothed her hair, as much as she could with the hopeless, curly, tangled mess she dealt with everyday. “No wonder Daddy’s already making me look at college applications.”

He frowned a little at that. “Y’wanna get back out there?” He asked in a voice that seemed admonishing, _you just got out of an accident._

She looked at her plaster-encased leg, hulking and awkward. “Well, probably not soon, but I should start moving around more. I was supposed to be making use of my time here to learn veterinary. I want to be like one, like my dad.”

“Uh huh,” he didn’t seem convinced. Or maybe she was just talking too fast.

Then, an idea.

“Maybe you can help me out on something,” she twisted her fingers together, hoping that she wasn’t being too forward. “I mean, everyone’s so busy and I’m not exactly mobile, so...” Suddenly, she wanted to show him that he wasn’t a charity case, that there was a reason why he was there. “If you’re not too busy, you can help me getting around.”

“You mean, like a nurse?”

“No, I mean...” she sighed. “You know what, forget it. It was a dumb idea anyway.”

“Ain’t a dumb idea,” Daryl said abruptly. He was still frowning, but she could see that he was turning the idea in his mind, figuring it out. “Just clarifyin’ what you meant.”

She stared at him then, trying to see if he was serious or just playing along. He seemed dead serious though, and he finally met her eyes.

“When I’m a little better...than this,” she ventured, suddenly feeling shy, not understanding why. It wasn’t his job to be like a nurse, but the fact of the matter was that Otis and Patricia and her parents weren’t up to the task of physically burdened with her. And she’d be damned if they got a full-time nurse to look after her. But he could help her. And then maybe he’d feel a little less like a charity case.

“Alright,” he nodded. “When you’re ready.”

She beamed at him, grateful already. “I’ll let you know.”

They heard the low timbre of Hershel’s voice out of sight, coming up the porch, followed by heavy steps on the stairs. Daryl stood up quickly, as if afraid of being caught, and then remembered himself, where he was, and sat down again. He reminded her of a caged bird just then, not used to freedom. She wondered why that was. The more she tried to figure him out, the more it seemed an impossible task.

Hershel and Otis came, and they didn’t seem the least bit surprised to see them sitting together. “Come on in, when you’re ready,” Hershel said before he went in, addressing both him and Beth. She glanced at Daryl and smiled. Like it was the most natural thing, Daryl Dixon and Beth Greene--friends. She liked the sound of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Aiden Monroe. Because. Reasons.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm new, so comments are very much appreciated. Thank you!


End file.
